


The Pussy Willows Mission

by ifinkufreaky



Series: Under the Coat [7]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Loss of Control, Spit Kink, Undercover As Prostitute, Undercover Missions, see chapter two notes for more of a warning, well really stripper but i figure the tag was close enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-08-13 02:17:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20166523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifinkufreaky/pseuds/ifinkufreaky
Summary: Posing undercover at the revenant-owned Pussy Willows gentleman's club was going great until Bobo Del Rey walked in, the only one of the badguys that already knew our heroine's face...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this doesn't jive with the canon timeline, and I'm ok with that; it's just for funsies. So let's assume that the Earp gang realized that Pussy Willows was owned by revenants some time before Bobo Del Rey was out of the picture...

The plan had started off perfect. Once we realized Pussy Willows was the center of some shady revenant shit, the next step seemed obvious: infiltrate the joint and see what the demons were up to. Wynonna couldn’t do it; she’d have been recognized. Haught had said “hell no,” and no one would let Waverly volunteer, so it was on me to initiate phase one and go get a job at the infamous strip club just outside Purgatory.

How hard could it be? Pose as a dancer for a few nights, long enough to get close to the revenants at their next meet-up, and learn exactly what they were doing. I had just enough confidence, and just the right lack of hang-ups or personal boundaries, to nail the audition and get myself assigned to the right nights.

My first shift wasn’t crucial. I just had to manage to not get fired before the weekend, when the real stake-out would happen. My plan was to be exceptionally mediocre at this job; take my turns on stage, make a few bucks, and just kind of blend into the background of the staff. You know, not work too hard.

The boss didn’t like it. Jonas had me pegged for a slacker within the first hour, scowling at me for hanging by the back bar and flushing me out to go try harder at drumming up business with the three customers making an early night of it at the beginning of my shift. I discovered lapdances were kind of fun, anyway, since these guys were following the rules and keeping their hands to themselves. It was nice to feel appreciated, if I didn’t think about it too hard.

I was enjoying myself on stage, shimmying into the mood and out of my clothes, when the trouble started with a flash of fur in the seats at the right-hand corner. Most of the demons in Purgatory had no idea I had an association with the Earp family. That’s why we had considered this plan foolproof; but there was exactly one fucker who did, and at the sight of his trademark coat I felt my heart sink lower than that panties I had just dropped to the stage floor.

Bobo Del Rey shouldn’t be here. Our informant swore up and down that the trailer park boss was not involved, that this gang of revenants was cooking up something completely separate from whatever his bullshit was. And yet, there at the end of the stage was that greasy black mohawk, the two-toned beard surrounding a lazy smile full of sharp teeth.

Somehow I managed not to trip in my 6-inch platform heels. I turned away from him and took a deep breath, trying to think fast without betraying the notion that anything was wrong. There was a decent chance he hadn’t recognized me yet. I was wearing a long, full, pink wig that was definitely not my natural hair color, and maybe he wouldn’t look very hard at my face. With luck, I could finish out my set without him paying any more attention to me.

I rolled my shoulders and snuck a peek past my curtain of fake hair in Bobo’s direction. A crisp dollar bill now lay on the stage in front of him.

Fuck. The place was so dead that he had no competition; there would be no way for me to pretend I hadn’t noticed him there, or that there was no time left to get to him for a little one-on-one tease before my song was over. Especially with the boss already suspicious of my ass… I was going to have to go over there.

Standard procedure is to get down on your knees in front of the customer, make some kind of friendly or sultry eye contact, depending on the kind of stage persona you’re going for, and then do a few seconds of body rolls or contortion-y dance moves that show off your assets, up close and personal to them. Overachievers might lean in and touch the guest, rub her tits on their face or whatever, but I was definitely going to try and get away with the bare minimum with Mr. Del Rey. Then you hold up your garter strap and wait for them to slide the money in, and you’re done.

Even the eye contact part of that formula was too risky for me; the cotton-candy-pink of the wig was probably only going to be disguise enough if he never got a good look at my face. So I chose the bored-and-sultry persona, dancing my way over to his side of the stage with a slow sashay, ending with my heels on either side of his dollar bill and my backside facing out.

My inner monologue had one shining, screaming moment of what-the-fuck-are-you-doing-with-yourself-right-now. Bobo had sat down at the stage after all my clothes were already off, and now one of our greatest enemies was about twelves inches away from my ankles and staring up at the bare cleft of my ass. But what else was a girl to do? I rolled it, popped it, and dropped it with as much skill as I could muster, then bounced on my heels with my ass sticking right into his face.

I dared a glance over my shoulder. I just had to; my skin was tingling under even the idea of his gaze. Bobo’s face had gone slack, eyes fixed on the bounce of my buttocks and whatever glimpse of my pussy he was able to get in between. The simple pleasure I saw in his eyes tempted me to bend forward, spread myself a little further for him as I felt goosebumps rise along the back of my thighs.

Because the other problem was… did I mention I totally had the hots for Bobo already? I knew it was wrong, but there was no denying the way that he made me feel the last time that Wynonna and I had a run-in with him. So there was a little part of me, a little part that was getting bigger and needier by the second here, that wanted to relish this chance for incognito flirting. To think that Bobo liked my body, even though he didn’t know who he was looking at… I undulated my hips and indulged the temptation just a little bit longer.

Bobo leaned in, closed his eyes, and took a deep sniff of me. It should have been gross but it really, really wasn’t. Pure, animal appreciation was in his gaze when he opened those eyes and locked them onto mine.

Watching his reaction from over my shoulder, I returned his gaze for probably a second too long. He snapped his teeth together with an audible click and I realized myself, flipping my hair to hide my face again. I spread my knees wide and dropped almost to my belly in my haste to distract him with other body parts. I writhed with an arched back before him for a few beats, then closed my legs and switched to a catlike sort of body roll on hands and knees, getting ready to transition out of there. That was fun, but now I was just about to lose my nerve.

I finished by sitting in front of him, one bent knee braced on the stage while I swirled the other thigh open and held up the elastic of the g-string just a few inches away from my exposed cunt.

Bobo wasn’t letting me off that easy. He picked the dollar bill up off the stage between us and traced it along the wrong leg, knee to hip. His fingertips brushed my skin too, when he ran it along my lower belly, and then finally backtracked toward the required destination. I thought I could hear a pleased little growling noise emanating from his chest as his eyes followed his fingers. He tickled me a little as he slid the bill into position, and grasped my leg in a light squeeze for just a second when I moved to pull away.

“You,” he said, eyelids narrowing as he inspected my face. “Come talk to me when you’re done on stage.”

I tried not to betray the chill that ran through me after that, smiling and nodding like the compliant girl eager to make a buck that I was pretending to be. I gathered myself up enough for a few turns around the pole before the D.J. started speaking over the final notes of the song. “Everybody give it up for Angel. It’s her first night tonight, guys. Give her a try, let her show you some love.” The music shifted, and I tried to match its quicker beat as I swiped my outfit off the floor and strode down the stairs opposite Bobo’s end of the club. “Desert Rose to the stage next, Desert Rose.”

‘Come talk to me,’ he had said. I turned the words, and the inscrutable smoothness of his face when he had said them, over and over in my mind as I pulled my strappy thong and mostly-sheer pastel babydoll back over my body, quick as I could. For the first time that night, I wished I had chosen an outfit with just a touch more coverage. Had he recognized me? It could have been innocent, he could have just liked me and been asking for a private dance, but I was afraid I had seen something else behind his eyes.

So, I stalled. Another patron waved me over with a cry of “Hey, new girl!” and I plopped into his lap and chatted him up – at an angle where I could still keep an eye on Bobo. My hope that Desert Rose might catch his interest failed, as every time I looked up I found Mr. Del Rey continuing to stare at me. Every minute of delay made me more sure I was in deep shit; I highly doubted he would scowl this hard at any old girl that just wasn’t giving him the first turn.

He probably knew who I was. So why hadn’t he raised hell and had my ass thrown out as soon as he realized? What game was he trying to play, here?

There was only one way to find out.

With a polite little “let me know if you wanna get a dance later” for my new friend, I extricated myself from his lap and sauntered straight across the room to meet my fate.

Bobo looked peeved to be kept waiting. He sat at one of the high-top tables off to the side, one long leg splayed off the edge of his stool as leaned into his elbow and watched me come.

I’m sure my face looked guarded. Threat stiffens my back, makes me puff up to my full height and try to convey that I am not one to easily be fucked with. “Hey,” I said, bumping the back of my arm against Bobo’s table as I came to a stop before him, but making no move to initiate contact.

“Hey,” Bobo echoed, extending an arm to beckon me into his personal space. “Having a good time tonight?”

I ducked under his arm because it was expected, and his warm palm came to rest on the bare skin of my lower back. “Sure,” I shrugged, looking around the room because I figured I still ought not to let him get a good look at my face. I let the music take me, shimmying with my back against his front, and trying not to memorize his tobacco-and-campfire scent.

I felt his nose brush against my ear, his hands coming around to cover my stomach and hold me close against him. “You don’t belong here,” he murmured low, drawing out the words like they were something delicious to savor.

My heart skipped a beat but I still found a way to reply. “That obvious it’s my first day, huh? I’m trying to learn as fast as I can –”

Bobo cut through my excuses. “I know you. You work with the Earps.” One hand traveled up to the side of my face, pulling the hair off my cheek. “And now you’re here, of all the places a girl could get a job. This can’t just be a coincidence.”

I forced a breath out of my ballooning lungs. “Times are tough, man, and I heard strippers make great—"

“We could talk to Jonas, see if he thinks it’s a coincidence.”

I cut the shit. “Don’t.” My muscles locked, ceasing any pretense of dancing. “He’ll kill me.”

“Yeah, he probably will,” Bobo agreed. His hand wrapped around my hip. “But don’t worry yourself, Angel. Just keep dancing.”

I turned inside his arms, now that we were past disguises. “Why shouldn’t I worry? You keeping my secret, Bobo?” On to Plan B: keep the problem contained.

One notched eyebrow lifted. “Depends on what you’re here for, darlin’.”

“Nothing that involves you.”

Bobo took a long sip from his straw, chewing that over. “Can you guarantee that?”

I tossed my head. “You trying to be a part of this thing Jonas is cooking up?” I held his gaze as levelly as I could, pretending we already knew more about the revenants’ plans than we really did.

Bobo scoffed. “Hell no. I’ve got more important things to do.”

I shifted my weight, just a little bit distracted by the way the line of my body was brushing against his. “Then we’re good. No conflicts of interest here.”

Bobo tucked his arm around my waist more firmly, smiling down on me. “Then I can keep a secret, darlin’. So long as you can play nice.” He ran his palm down over my ass, but I was too nerve-wracked to enjoy it.

“Watch your hands,” I said, pulling away. “The guests don’t get to touch around here.”

Bobo’s face was smug. “Is that what you think.”

I reached for his near-empty glass, grasping at any excuse to walk away and clear my head. “Let me go refill your drink.”

My body slumped as I waited for the bartender. What exactly did Bobo mean by ‘play nice,’ and how far was I willing to go to keep this operation from tanking? This was getting way more complicated than we’d anticipated. Tonight was supposed to be the quiet night, the warm-up to establish my cover, that’s all. I didn’t need Bobo fucking with me on top of everything else.

And then Jonas came striding down from the other end of the bar at me, his scowl apparent even in the dim mood lighting. “What the fuck was that, Angel?”

I creased my brows in what I hoped was a cute pout. “What do you mean, boss?”

He motioned in Bobo’s direction. “He doesn’t look happy.”

I glanced over my shoulder. Bobo Del Rey was indeed glowering at me again. In a flash, I reviewed what our conversation must have looked like from the outside. My body language had not been very inviting. And Jonas already thought I wasn’t working hard enough. I tried going for the sympathy plea. “I had to walk away, he got handsy. I think you need to send Rodrick over there to remind him of the rules.”

Jonas didn’t even glance toward the bouncer. “Oh really.”

“Yeah,” I continued, though it didn’t look like I was swaying him. “Dude was being a real creep.”

He shook his head, face twisting. “Where do you think you are, princess?”

Damn. I had only pissed him off more. Bobo’s fresh drink landed at my elbow, and Jonas scooped it up with one hand while grabbing my upper arm with the other. “Come on.”

He practically towed me over to Bobo’s table, though I tried to walk with a little more dignity than that. Bobo’s eyebrows climbed, like he expected something really interesting to happen next.

I didn’t get a look at what Jonas’ face was doing, though there was an edge of tension in his voice when he spoke. “So you’ve met my newest girl, Angel.” He wiggled my arm for emphasis, and did not let it go. “Pretty, right? Nice set of tits on her. She doesn’t know how things work around here yet.” Jonas turned to me, eyes deadly serious. “This guy right here, he’s a very special customer. He gets anything he wants.” My stomach started to drop. “VIP.” He used his grip on my arm to thrust me closer to Bobo before releasing me. I stumbled a little, extra graceless because I turned to grab the table for balance rather than Bobo’s thigh. “You’re gonna treat him right tonight, aren’t you Angel?”

I swallowed the hot words that were already thick on my tongue. If I didn’t come off as compliant, a team player, then I doubted Jonas would let me near the important guys when the real shit started going down. If there was one thing I had to make him think I was tonight, it was revenant-friendly.

I settled into a silky smile, letting my spine sway. “Of course. Anything you say, boss.” And then, because Jonas was watching, I gave Bobo my brightest, most inviting grin as I pushed his spread knees out a little wider and settled myself between them.

“Good,” Jonas said, “show him what you can do.”

I rolled my ass against Bobo’s crotch. Table dances were a little tough in these tall pub chairs, but there were a few moves I could think of. I bent at the waist and put my hands on my knees, grinding my ass up, down, and side to side against Bobo’s jeans while I arched my back and tossed my hair. Jonas retreated back to the bar, but he watched me like a hawk. This performance was for more than just one.

I worked it good, in time to the heavy beat, but I kept the contact against Bobo’s body light. I wasn’t ready to know if I was making him hard. I felt his hand land on my lower back, felt it ooze up my spine, sliding under the sheer fabric of my halter top. Customers don’t get to touch, except Bobo does.

The song changed. I straightened and swiveled around between Bobo’s knees, daring to meet his eyes. Smug satisfaction and lust met me there in equal measure. The new song was slower; I rolled my body in half time as I stared down the enemy from just inches away.

Bobo raised his hand as if to touch my face, rings glittering in the flashing lights from the stage. I flinched, and he frowned, and I remembered Jonas was watching closely. I straightened up and let Bobo caress my cheek.

The boss was too far away to hear us talk, though. And speaking to Bobo like I wasn’t afraid of him helped me keep my nerve up. “I thought you said you weren’t working with him.”

Bobo smiled at me like I was cute. “I don’t have any deals with him, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want a deal with me.” His fingertips traced down my jaw, heading along the side of my neck. “The perks of being the baddest thing out of hell around these parts. He kisses my ass.” He leaned in closer, curling those long fingers behind my ear. “And that means you have to, too, if you want to keep this job in time for whatever fool plan you all are cooking up here.”

My breath slipped out of me, with a quiet little noise that Bobo’s ear may or may not have been close enough to hear. Being presented up just about on a literal platter here for Mr. Del Rey, it had my unfortunate crush bubbling up full force, making my legs weak as they struggled to balance around the tingling between them.

I could handle this. And I could even enjoy doing it, and show Jonas just how good I can treat his VIPs. Earn myself a place right on the lap of one of tomorrow’s revenants, or maybe even Jonas himself, as they had their little meet-up and spilled all the beans about their plan. All I had to do was live out one of my wilder fantasies, and give Bobo a really fuckin’ good dance right here.

Bobo’s fingers left the back of my neck, coming to idly play with his beard as he looked down the line of my body. Taking the hint, I thrust out my chest and undulated more widely to the beat. I let my hands run up my ribcage, tossing my head and arching my back so that Jonas had a good angle too, so he could see what a good sport I was being.

Bobo bit his lip as my hands covered my tits. I played with myself a little for him, made sure my nipples poked hard and strong through the thin fabric that barely covered them. His hands came to my hips, grasping like he was trying to keep control and inching me closer to him. “Jonas was right,” he rasped, “you’ve got some of the nicest tits I’ve ever seen.”

I mimicked what I had seen some of the other girls doing out at the tables, pulling the fabric of my top to the sides and letting my nipples pop out the top of my costume. I didn’t think we were supposed to be taking things off out on the floor, but technically all my clothes were still on.

Bobo groaned and leaned closer, and I ran my cheek against the shaved side of his skull. “You make a man wanna lose all control,” he growled, “and do some unseemly things to you.”

The lust was spiraling fast. I would have been much more afraid if we weren’t in the middle of the slowly-filling club, if my boss weren’t right there watching us. Because my desire was answering Bobo’s and I wasn’t sure how much control I was going to be maintaining either.

Bobo pulled back with a noticeable swallow, lidded eyes still fixed on the rhythmic motion of my body as I continued to follow the song. “What’s the plan here, anyway?” he asked. I got the notion that he was trying to clear his head too. “You a spy, 'Angel,’ just keeping an eye on Jonas and his gang?” A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he met my eyes. “Or is this the beginning of some kind of undercover sting operation. Maybe you’ve got some guns stashed somewhere,” he tried to look down my back, “so you can cover Wynonna in a hail of bullets from the stage later? Now that would be something to see.”

I dropped and rolled my body low for a beat, then came back up with a teasing little grin. “I’m not one to kiss and tell,” I quipped.

“Oh, you wanna give me a kiss?” Bobo let his lips part, gazing down at mine.

I put both hands on his shoulders, leaning in slowly. I ghosted my lips just above his cheekbone, close enough for him to feel my breath. “Against the rules,” I whispered in his ear.

“But whose rules are you following,” he whispered back, tempting me with a grip stretched wide around my ribs, both thumbs sliding up to tickle the bottoms of my breasts.

Fuck. I could pretend my panting breaths were solely the fault of the physical exertion of dancing, but that would be a bold-faced lie. The adrenaline and lust were mixing together in a cocktail more intoxicating than any alcohol, and I found myself wishing that we were somewhere more private, where Bobo and I could do more than just tease each other.

I failed to notice Jonas walking over, hypnotized as I was by the sensation of Bobo’s fingertips swirling over my nipples. “What do you think, Bobo, you like her?” the boss asked, smirking at the adorned hands that had just started palming both my breasts.

“She’s all right,” Bobo said. He dropped his hands to my hips and looked over at Jonas like he was interrupting.

Jonas wasn’t stupid. Reading the situation, he knew what play it was to his advantage to make next. He ran his hand over my shoulders, possessively. “I’ve got a good feeling about Angel, here. She’s gonna make me a lot of money. Once she learns how to work a little harder.” His hand came to the back of my neck and he turned my face up to meet his. “Why don’t you take Mr. Del Rey here back to the Champagne Room. Thirty minutes.” He turned back to Bobo. “On the house, of course.” They exchanged smiles. “Then come talk to me, we’ll see how you feel about my business after that.”

So now I was a bargaining chip. Bobo nodded to Jonas, not giving him much to read in his face after that final comment.

Jonas drew me back and pointed me toward the hallway leading to the “private” booths. Here at Pussy Willows, the Champagne Room was past all those, a truly private area with a door that closed and its own wet bar and tiny stage.

I guess I was getting my wish. I tried not to shiver as I put on a bright smile for Jonas’ benefit and reached out for Bobo’s hand. “Right this way, darlin’.”

Jonas grabbed my arm before I passed him up, leaning down to growl into my ear. “And since you seem so concerned about the rules, Angel: you let him touch you everywhere. And you do whatever he asks you to. He ain’t no cop. And I need you to make him feel like a king.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was hard to tag the potential trigger in this chapter. Suffice it to say, this story does not have a perfectly happy ending, so be ready for that if you need to be ready for those sort of things. It's not kidnapping, but it has that sort of energy to it, hopefully that's a fair enough warning.

While I may have thought I was wishing for this just a few short moments ago, my nerves threatened to shatter me as I led Bobo into the Champagne Room and shut the door behind us. A bouncer was supposed to stand nearby so I could shout if I was in trouble, but Jonas drew the man away to the far end of the hall. And made sure I noticed that he did. He didn’t want me thinking I was allowed to get out of anything Bobo del Rey wanted to do to me in there, that much was clear.

The sounds of the club were more muted in here, though the heavy bass still pumped through the walls. There was a dial behind the bar that would let me control the volume that piped the DJ’s music in through our own speakers, and the previous occupants of the room had left it real low. The last customer must have wanted to talk.

I wondered if Bobo wanted to talk. He stalked through the room like the beast his shaggy coat made him out to be, inspecting the stage and the single chair set before it before rounding on the bar set against the other wall. He leaned over it on one shoulder to check out the selection behind, drumming his fingers on the countertop as he did. Then his whole body stilled, and he just stared at me.

“So what do we do in here, Angel?”

I felt my eyebrows lift. “You’ve never been in the Champagne Room before?”

Bobo shook his head. “Too rich for my blood.” He leaned forward over his elbow. “If I’m gonna pay for it, it’s usually cheap, quick, and sleazy.”

“Not used to the high-class treatment then, eh?” I teased, feeling a powerful shimmer through my body as I slinked closer to him at the bar. “Well, that makes my job a little easier.”

“Because you have no idea what you’re doing?” Bobo said, pointedly.

“Oh, I think I have an idea.” I tossed my hair and ran my hands down my costume, arching my back before giving him a seductive little wiggle.

Bobo took a deep breath in, his face… skeptical? He reached behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of champagne. “Go on then, impress me.”

I pouted a little, but the look on his face did not relent. I suppose I had been kind of hoping he would just grab me as soon as the door was shut and ravish me.

“You know,” he growled, pushing away from the bar, “I just remembered something I really need to tell Jonas about…”

“No!” I shouted, intercepting him with a hand at the center of his chest.

He smirked down at my desperate fingers, then peered at me from under his heavy brows. “Then don’t let me get bored.”

Gulping down my nerves, I ran my fingertips down the front of his body, shimmying a little as I kept my eyes locked on his. Bobo’s smile oozed into a self-satisfied, victorious gloat as I sank down before him, fingers teasing and promising down the front of his pants.

“Get on the stage,” he ordered softly.

I felt much more self-conscious doing this in here, privately on display for no one but Bobo himself, than I had out on the main floor with dozens of eyes upon me. Maybe it was because it had been just part of the mission, then. Maybe because I knew all of the other lustful pricks were going to have to sit on their hands. Whereas in here, anything could happen.

I started slow, leaning on the pole, undulating body rolls leading into the few spins I could manage around the thing. I wished I was strong enough for the acrobatics that had other girls climbing to the ceiling before spiraling gracefully down, but as Bobo had pointed out, I was not actually a pro.

Mr. Del Rey had settled into the one chair in front of the stage, legs spread wide as he made himself comfortable, fingers picking at the foil covering the top of the champagne bottle.

I faltered in my dance, wondering if he was distracted, if he even liked what I was doing. He had seemed so captivated by me out on the floor, but now I just wasn’t sure.

His eyes flashed up to me. “Keep going, Angel. I like the way you move.”

I took one step closer, looking for permission to be done with this part of the game, to move on to something else. “Yeah right.”

“I do.” He flicked his wrist toward my hips, rings flashing in the dim light. “Work it, girl.”

I sucked in a breath, summoning the few threads of confidence I had left. I needed to close my eyes to get into the zone; Bobo was looking ferociously gorgeous down there but he just intimidated me too much. And, he was laughing at me. I realized he_ wanted_ me to feel in over my head. Like I didn’t know what I was doing, like maybe my act hadn’t fooled anyone.

I’d show him.

A new song started: a deep, catchy tempo with plenty of bass that had my ass popping just as soon as I recognized it. I refused to look at him for a good long while, letting the beat take me somewhere ferocious and wild. I humped the pole like it was the sweetest lover I’d ever had.

Sweat made my skin gleam before I finally tossed my hair and caught Bobo’s eyes. His pupils had gone black again, his gaze riveted, the unopened bottle forgotten between two fingers at his side.

He grinned, after a half-second delay. Then leaned forward and crooked two fingers at me. “Now bring that sweet thing over here.”

That wild energy still suffused my limbs as I crawled, cat-like, across the stage to him. I spread my knees wide at the very edge and straightened, running my hands up my torso and squeezing my tits for him again. That anxious energy had transformed into eagerness; if I had no choice but to do this, I might as well go buck wild and enjoy Bobo Del Rey for all he was worth.

“Take it off,” he said, eyeing the sheer babydoll that barely hid my skin from him.

I stripped it off like a champ, and with an arm held high, sent it flying across the room.

Bobo grinned, shrugged off his coat, and leaned in close. “Now give me those gorgeous tits.”

I tipped forward on my knees, bracing myself for sudden movements, but Bobo didn’t lunge at my chest. He brought his face real close, ghosting his lips over the swells of my breasts, beard catching at delicate flesh here and there. His mouth was open, and he looked like he was teasing himself with the softness of my skin.

Then he withdrew, and lifted the bottle. There was only a little splash when he pulled the cork, pattering my skin with the sweet liquid, making my nipples harder against the sudden shift in temperature. “This has to be what you’re supposed to do in the Champagne Room, right?” he quipped, then poured the bottle over my collarbone.

His tongue was there to catch the stream, licking between my breasts at the golden rivulet cascading down. My skin tingled. With a little frown of concentration, his arm encircled my waist to steady me. Then he changed the angle of his pour, until he could catch the champagne with his mouth just as it ran off the tip of my right nipple.

It was hard to hold still under the combination of cold, tingling liquid, the movement of his hot breath, warm tongue, and scratchy brushes of his beard. I giggled, and Bobo got sloppier, spilling the drink down the rest of my body, soaking the front of my thong and nibbling at my other nipple to make me squirm harder. He set the bottle down and started sucking everywhere the champagne had flowed, cleaning my skin of every last drop.

He stood up, pushing me into a backbend over my heels as he assaulted my skin. “Don’t stop dancing,” he murmured into my hip, arms caging me as I writhed for him, allowing me just enough room to keep the beat.

He moaned as I rocked my pelvis up into his belly. Strong fingers found both my asscheeks and tightened.

“Turn over,” he groaned. “Work that ass for me like you were doing out there.”

I flipped as soon as he released me, spreading my legs wide before arching my back and pressing my ample hindquarters into his face.

He gave himself almost no time to admire the sight of bouncing flesh and the little pink strip of thong hiding what was between. He smacked one side of my ass, then the other, playful and firm. “You have no idea how hard it was not to do this out there,” Bobo said, then grabbed two lusty handfuls and ground my cheeks vaguely in time to the music. He alternated slaps and rough grabs, overstimulating me fast and making me press toward him in need for something more directly satisfying.

Bobo seemed to read my body language instantly, stripping the thong off me so fast it stung, and plunging his tongue just as swiftly into my core. I cried out, though the wetness of both my cunt and his mouth made it entirely painless for him to press immediately inside. I felt him suck my juices as he slid his tongue back into his mouth, then he licked up and down both sides of my labia.

“Flip,” he said again, and got me laying on my back, high heels hooked onto the corners of the stage, pussy spread like a buffet before him. I thought I had to be wet enough but he drooled extra saliva over his fingers before pressing them inside of me, probing for my g-spot while his mouth closed over my clit.

He did not have to work me long before my legs started shaking. “Bobo,” I cried, not sure what to do with my hands, pulling at his hair, his heavy shoulders, at my own sticky chest. He hummed something encouraging against the delicate flesh being tortured so exquisitely under his mouth, and the orgasm rolled me flat, thundering through all my limbs. He didn’t give up until he had reduced me to a shuddering wreck laying across the stage.

Bobo stood up tall, wiping his chin as he smirked down at the naked, twitching mess he’d made of me. I saw his other arm move, and was able to lift my head just far enough to see his hand outlining a massive erection.

“Come on over here and ride me,” he said, stepping back to sit down in the chair again, unfastening his belt.

It took two tries to sit up, but at the thought of a deeper penetration my cunt started to ache for him. It was not too hard to convince my wobbly arms and legs to get me over there.

“That’s right,” Bobo said as I climbed into his lap, running his hands over me in a combination of guidance and eager possession. His pants were open, cock straining at the fabric of his jersey undershorts. A present left for me to finish unwrapping. I sat down hard, pressing my sex against that bulge and Bobo moaned in my ear. “No more teasing now. Get it out of there and fuck yourself with it.”

I lifted up onto my knees so we could strip his clothing down. His cock sprang up as soon as it was freed, longer and thicker than anything I’d ever had. I must have whimpered when I saw it, because Bobo made a soothing noise and stroked a thumb against my cheek. “You can do it. You’re going to take the whole thing for me.”

It’s one thing to lay back and get fucked. It’s entirely another to lift your body up over a fat dick like Bobo’s and slide yourself down onto it under your own power. Even though my pussy was sopping wet from my moustache ride on the stage, I still spit into my hand to make sure the head of his cock was as lubricated as possible.

Something about that gesture made a dark smile tug at the edge of Bobo’s mouth. His long fingers encircled my waist, coaxing me forward and onto him.

He was big. It took a little adjustment to my angle, a little back and forth of my hips to get him past the tight entrance in my pelvic floor. I focused on the sound I was drawing from Bobo’s throat, somewhere between a growl and a purr, as I tried to relax against the feeling of stretch that only grew more intense the further down I sank.

I could feel every inch of him. When my hips came to rest upon his, the pressure was almost unbearable until I started to move; somehow the friction of drawing myself up and down over him turned all that strain into white-hot pleasure. I chased it eagerly.

Bobo’s hands clamped down on the sides of my hips. “Slow.” I pleaded with him with my eyes, but he did not free me to keep bucking against him. “Let’s not get this over with too quickly.”

Caged between his hands, I writhed in exquisite tension over him. His cock felt like it was reaching my navel. “Bobo,” I begged, and he rewarded me with a few thrusts of his own, making me squeal.

“Am I too much for you?” he gloated. Before I could venture any sort of response, he answered for me. “No. You love it like this. Stretched to your limit.”

And as he said it, I did, fresh arousal blooming at my core, turning the deep ache into a throb I couldn’t get enough of. Our bodies found a rhythm, rocking together in slowly-speeding waves of need.

“I want to feel you cum,” he said into my ear.

I felt good, but I wasn’t that close.

When I didn’t respond, Bobo grabbed me under my jaw, turning my face toward his. With hawk’s eyes he inspected me, the crease of my brow, my panting. “Almost there,” he intoned, then squeezed his fingers into my cheeks so my lips would part. He looked like he might be about to kiss me, but then he spat right into my mouth.

A strange rush came with that gesture, starting at the glob of slightly-colder wetness that hit my tongue and spreading down through the rest of my body. His cock pumped up into me just a little bit harder and he repeated his command.

“Now cum,” Bobo Del Rey told me, and it was like my body itself became desperate to please him. I ground my hips against him deeper as an orgasm bellowed up from my depths so fast and so hard that I couldn’t even breathe.

Absent my own breath, all I could hear was the sound of Bobo’s roaring pleasure, stiffening him into a climax of his own as mine seemed to turn over itself and tumble on and on, until I worried I’d pass out before it would finish. I could actually feel my body clenching him in rippling waves, milking his cock for every last drop of what he had for me. I thought in that moment that I was probably ruined for anyone else.

His hips collapsed back into the chair, and we both sighed against each other. I rested my forehead on his shoulder as my heart hammered in my ears. Fucking hell, what had that even been? People only came like that in pornos. Fantasies. Not real life.

Bobo’s fingers tickled up my ribs. “Such a good girl.” He drew my face up to his and kissed me soundly, sucking my bottom lip before swiping his tongue across mine. “Just as sweet as you look.”

I think I blushed, unable to handle even the illusion of affection from him.

We panted at each other for a moment. The longer I looked at his face, smug, satisfied, his notched brow arched just a little, his slick mohawk disheveled from my fingers, the more I wanted to squirm. I had just fucked Bobo Del Rey. Our demon revenant enemy number one. His cock was still nestled tight inside me. And yet, I didn’t want to move. Didn’t want the rush to fade. Didn’t want to face whatever was coming next.

“Why don’t you make us some drinks,” he said.

“Yes, Bobo.” I pushed up and dismounted his lap slowly, muscles a little cramped. I grabbed a napkin from the bar and tried to wipe up the stickiness he’d left between my legs.

He’d been watching me. “Leave it,” he said.

“Yes, Bobo.” My hand dropped the napkin. I shook my head. “What the fuck? Why did I just say that? This is gross.” I tried to grab another napkin, but my arm wouldn’t comply. I turned wide eyes to him. “What’s going on?”

He stood, closing his pants back up with a smug grin plastered across his face. “Another perk to being a demon. Did you ever wonder about all those humans we hang around with, how we keep em… docile?”

I felt like I was wading through a thick current, like in a bad dream. But my tongue was still sharp. “You mean those skanks at the trailer park?”

Bobo laughed. “You’re one of those skanks now, honey. They’re called familiars.” He settled his great coat into its usual place upon his shoulders. Instantly his malevolent presence seemed to overwhelm the room. “Oh, usually we seal a pact with spit on the hands, or do an old-fashioned ritual… but for you, I preferred the most sinful option.” He stepped close as I felt the blood drain from my face. “The more body fluids we share, the stronger the hold I have on you.” He grabbed my chin, ducking his head to lick a broad stripe across my jaw.

I shuddered, thinking of how quickly he got his tongue into my cunt, spit into my mouth, how he made sure to cum inside me. How I may have sealed this with my own spit too, when I had fisted it over the head of his cock. My knees wanted to buckle but Bobo was there to hold me up as he told me more about my fate.

“You’ll come when I call, and you’ll find that you really want to do just about anything I tell you.” I thought of how my body felt when he told me to cum. His fingers curled possessively around my waist. “And I’ll keep you well-pumped, absolutely full of me, so we’re sure it doesn’t wear off.”

I was a little horrified at the way my body tingled with longing at that promise.

He bent his head, speaking softly into my ear. “Your first orders are these. You don’t tell Wynonna, or anyone connected to her, what happened here tonight. I really don’t care what you say about Jonas and the rest of those fools, but I was never here. And then you listen, sweetheart, and pay attention. And come back and tell me everything you find out about what Wynonna’s up to. And if they move against me, you find a way to sabotage it.”

So this was it. I walked in here as a spy for Wynonna, and I would be walking out as Bobo’s.

“Oh,” he added, seemingly as an afterthought, “and you can tell me whatever you learn about Jonas tomorrow, too. Though I’m sure Wynonna and her little gang of eager puppies are going to be more than equipped to stop him.” He nudged my back a little. “Time to go. Find your clothes.”

Was I really going to be able to walk out of here like nothing had changed? And that struck another thought. “Did Jonas know this would happen?” I pulled back, searching Bobo’s eyes, anger finally sparking. “Is that why he really sent me back here with you, to offer me up as a new familiar?”

Bobo grinned, teeth sharp. “I don’t think Jonas knows I can work the bond this fast. He has no imagination, and he doesn’t use his tongue.”

I couldn’t hide the way his crassness both disgusted me and aroused me in equal measure. I made a huffing sound and went over to find my discarded costume. “So what happens now?” I asked, keeping my back turned to him as I pulled on the scanty pink protection I had from the world.

“You get back to work. I’ll indulge Jonas a little bit, talk to him for a while, tell him what a _real nice time _we had in here. Put in a good word for you. Then, I got other things to do. But don’t worry, Angel, I’ll be seeing you again, real soon.”

“How will I know when you want to see me?”

“Oh, you’ll know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really fascinated by the line mentioned on the show in passing that the humans that you see with the revenants at the trailer park are their "familiars." Nothing seemed to be more explained than that, so I made up my own method for how that worked and what it meant.


End file.
